Perfect conditions

All it took was one good snowfall of six inches or so late last month followed by a cold snap to make perfect conditions for sledding. And as I had been telling the kids, perfect sledding conditions may come along only once per season – or maybe, such as with last winter, not at all during any given winter season – so they need to do all the sledding they can while the conditions last.

And they have been. They’ve sledded on the driveway, at NARA Park, at friends’ houses. They understand that sledding isn’t like swimming, for which you can pretty much count on two dozen or more days on which to do in any given summer. Sledding conditions are complicated, and when you get them, you have to grab them.

But last weekend I had to remind myself that the same is true of snowshoeing. Good conditions for snowshoeing come along only occasionally in any given winter, and you can’t make excuses for letting those opportunities slip by. So on Sunday, when my mother suggested that we take our snowshoes over to Towle Field for an hour, I knew what the right answer was.

But even as we started out on the trail, I felt preoccupied by all the other things on my To Do list for the afternoon. I had intended to dust and vacuum. I should prep some dinners for the upcoming weeknights. I should run loads of laundry. I should read the Sunday New York Times.

But at a certain point, I recognized that all of those “shoulds” were distracting me from this critical reality: I was out snowshoeing. And I love snowshoeing. Last winter I didn’t get out on my snowshoes at all, not one time, because we had only about two days with snow. By fall, I was already thinking about how much I hoped to fit in some snowshoeing this winter. And there we were Sunday, with a free afternoon and perfect conditions.

With that in mind, I tried my best to will away thoughts of housework and article deadlines and focus on the fact that after over a year of waiting, I was back out on snowshoes. I can’t explain even to myself why I enjoy this so much. There’s no thrill to snowshoeing, and there’s not really any particular challenge. It’s really just taking a walk in the snow.

But there’s something that feels so majestic about marching along on top of the snowdrifts, and something so therapeutic about forging through the slight resistance of the powder. It gives a feeling of both height and strength which no other sport gives me.

Not surprisingly, the dusting and laundry were still there when I got home after an hour of trekking through the snowy forests and fields.  None of that work had gone anywhere in my absence: like a faithful pet, it waited patiently at home. With darkness falling early, I still had hours left in the day for housework and deskwork. But I’d also managed to fit in one perfect hour of snowshoeing. So maybe I was right to just listen to my own advice for once. Because as I always tell the kids about sledding, those conditions are rare enough that you just can’t let them pass you by.

A winter excursion by snowshoe, boot and paw

Midmorning yesterday we went snowshoeing: my aunt Pat, who is visiting from Colorado; my seven-year-old daughter Holly, our dog Belle, and me.

Well, the dog wasn’t showshoeing, just trotting surefootedly through the snow as she always does. And Holly snowshoed only for the first fifty feet or so and then declared that she was sinking farther into the snow with snowshoes on than in just boots, and hadn’t I told her the point of snowshoes was to stay on top of the snow? She said she’d go without the showshoes. Given that she’s the second of my two children to declare snowshoes redundant, I think the kiddie snowshoes are destined for the swap shed.

So Belle trotted, Holly tromped, and Pat and I showshoed, although by the time we’d reached our destination, the center of town one mile away, Pat was having trouble keeping one of her snowshoes on so she decided she’d just carry them.

No matter. I was still enjoying my snowshoes and happy that the rest of the coterie was sticking with the plan to walk to town, snowshoes or none. With our footpath under several inches of snow, I thought it was more fun to march along in my snowshoes than slog through the drifts even if, as Holly pointed out, there was no significant difference in ease of travel. I spend plenty of time throughout the winter slogging through snow in my boots; tromping in snowshoes was just something different and therefore fun.

Mostly I was just glad to be out. It was only the second time I’d put on my snowshoes all winter, and I’m sorry to admit that’s not for lack of snow; it’s that I’m too easily distracted from one of my favorite wintertime activities. I love snowshoeing in the winter, just as I love walking the rest of the year, but with snowshoeing as with walking, sometimes it’s just not quite enough of a priority. And that’s definitely a downside of being committed to a daily run. Knowing that my fifteen or more minutes of running is a higher priority often keeps me from the walking, biking and snowshoeing I love. But there are only so many minutes in a day, and priorities do need to be set. I’ve chosen to be a parent, wife, community member, writer, homemaker: that means I can’t put all the minutes into outdoor activity that I might wish to. I’ve opted for other responsibilities as well, so like just about everyone else in the world, unlimited recreation time is not a viable option for me.

All of which is why it felt so particularly rewarding to get out for an hour today. By foot, by snowshoe, by paw, by leash, with cameras in hand, we made our way to the general store in the center of town. Holly bought gummy worms and took a picture of them before she ate any; Pat and I rested for a few moments and took pictures of each other with Holly.

The conflation of circumstances just worked out today. The kids are on vacation from school. Several inches of snow fell on Tuesday. Pat is here for a brief visit. I had no urgent deadlines today. The sun was bright, the air milder than it has been in weeks. Everything was in favor for us to go snowshoeing, and I’m so glad we did.

By the end of the day, I was surprised and pleased to note how much snow had melted. As a runner, much as I appreciate the beauty of fresh snow, I also consider it an imposition; it covers the footpaths and forces me to run in the roadway or else confine my workouts to our long driveway, which gets dull. With the sun shining all day, gravel had emerged along most of the footpath and the driveway, meaning it will be easy to run there by tomorrow.

I also noticed that the biggest patches of snow-free gravel were in the tracks from our snowshoes. So there was an added advantage to our excursion; we’d facilitated the snowmelt that will make for easier running later in the week. All of this reminded me there’s really nothing frivolous about taking time for snowshoeing at all. The three of us spent time visiting together and had a good stretch of fresh air and exercise, the dog had a good workout that kept her content for the rest of the day, Holly’s gummy worm purchase supported a worthy local business, and we paved the way for melting. A good outing all around.

Remorse over letting a beautiful day get away

I can’t help feeling like I blew it yesterday. And as trivial a matter as it was, I can’t stop feeling remorseful about it today.

I went out for my daily run at about 10 AM and did a short one, just barely over the minimum mile necessary to maintain my daily running streak. At this time of year, with six inches or more of snow on the ground, it’s hard to do much more than a mile with the dog because the footpaths aren’t cleared and I don’t feel safe running with her on the road, so up and down our long common driveway is about the best I can do.

But it was a sparkling sunny day, not as chilly as earlier in the week, and as I finished up my 15 minutes of running, I found myself thinking, “This is the kind of day that would be perfect for snowshoeing.”

But I didn’t go snowshoeing, and that’s the source of the remorse: because there was simply no reason not to. I had a couple of deadlines to meet but knew I could wrap them up shortly after noon, if I put in a little extra effort. The kids were at school and no one needed me home. There was no reason not to agree with myself immediately and put a plan into action: “Yes, this would be a perfect day for snowshoeing, so let me just finish those two articles and take care of that 12:00 conference call and then I’ll go!”

What really bothers me about it is that I can think of so many times when I’ve had similar impulses but following through simply wasn’t the viable option that it was yesterday. When I was working full-time, I would often look out the window and think “If only I didn’t have to be in this horrid office building, I’d go for a long walk.” When I was a stay-at-home mom with small children, I’d think “If I didn’t have a baby to care for today, I’d go out and enjoy the beautiful weather, but it’s too cold to bundle her up, and I’m not really sure I can manage snowshoes with a baby in a backpack on my back…” Back when I lived in a different town, I would think “If only I lived in a beautiful place with fields and woods for tromping through, I’d go snowshoeing on a day like this.” But now I do, and I still wasn’t heading out. And even as I thought about those real-life situations, I could imagine other, worse situations in which one might look out the window and dream of snowshoeing in the bright sunlight: from a hospital room while watching over a sick family member, for example. Or from prison.

And none of those was the case yesterday. Not only was I not in prison or intensive care, I didn’t even have to wait for a repair person to show up or take part in a conference call that couldn't be rescheduled. I had at least two hours, maybe more, when not a soul in the world would have been negatively impacted if I’d walked out of the house and cut across the fields in my snowshoes. The dog would have loved it; I would have felt good for the rest of the day for having gotten in an extra workout. My endorphins would have been soaring all afternoon, and quite likely in the meditative silence I would have come up with a new article possibility or essay idea that could have been fruitful to future work.

But it didn’t happen. I have no excuse; it just didn’t happen. I went back inside after my short run and started e-mailing and copy-editing and doing other things that did not absolutely have to be done on the sunniest, most beautiful January day of the season. And I’ve regretted it ever since.

It’s so easy to stagnate, to submit to the lure of inertia, and sit down indoors rather than strap on the snowshoes. But there are days like yesterday that truly feel like once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Today is grayer, with light snow falling, but I’m going to try to get out anyway. I feel like I owe it to the universe to get out there today, to appreciate the opportunity and to try to make up for the one perfect day yesterday that I let get away for no good reason whatsoever.